


The Kingmaker

by linndechir



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asha tries to change Victarion's mind about her plans for the Kingsmoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kingmaker

**Author's Note:**

> Written for got_exchange on livejournal.

Asha was woken by loud voices just outside her cabin. She usually had no trouble sleeping through the singing and yelling of drunk men – it was a necessary skill for anyone who spent most of their life on a ship – but waiting for the Kingsmoot had set her on edge. For a moment she wondered if it wouldn't have been smarter to take up her chambers in the Great Keep, but she hadn't wanted to be seen as a soft woman who fled the discomfort of her ship as soon as she could.

Asha sat up and reached for the small axe she always kept close. The door of the cabin was pushed open and her uncle Victarion stepped inside. He was followed closely by Rolfe The Dwarf, who had the good sense not to try and touch Victarion, but still tried to step between him and Asha.

“I tried to stop him, but -” Rolfe started, but Asha put down the axe and grinned. She wished she would have seen that, anyone – even a man as tall as Rolfe – trying to stop Victarion Greyjoy from going where he wanted to go.

“It's fine. I'm sure the Lord Captain has a good reason to be here.” She got up, still grinning as Victarion shoved Rolfe out of the cabin unceremoniously, then faced her when the door was closed.

“Nuncle?”

“Your men are insolent,” he scoffed and stepped closer. He looked even larger than usual in the tiny cabin, too tall and broad for such a confined room. The sight reminded Asha of the caged lions and tigers she had seen in the Free Cities.

“They're careful.” She lit the small oil lamp that hung from a hook in the ceiling. It seemed to cast more shadows than light, but even so Asha could see the restless, brooding look on Victarion's face. She hadn't expected to see him again before the Kingsmoot, not after he had told her quite clearly what he thought of her suggestion. Victarion started to pace, but the cabin was too small for more than two of his long steps, and he stopped again, his back turned to Asha now. She watched him quietly – in her experience it was better not to prod Victarion, it only irritated him. Victarion drummed his fingers against the hull of the ship, the sound a dull thump on the wood. It was just starting to annoy her when he finally spoke.

“Euron must not be king.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Asha said cautiously. She waited again, but Victarion stayed quiet. After a few moments he turned to look at her, as if expecting her to elaborate. Asha ran a hand through her dishevelled short hair.

“But you know that neither of us stands a chance against him on our own.” Victarion scoffed, but he didn't object. Asha tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “They won't make me queen. I am my father's rightful heir, but all they see is a woman. And you, nuncle … Men respect you, but they listen to Euron. He has a way with words, he can sway men better than either of us. You heard him last night. He knows what to say to make men cheer for him, and that's what will win him the Kingsmoot.”

Victarion looked angry, but his anger wasn't directed at her. He still didn't reply, and Asha realised suddenly that he looked … lost. What she had just told him was no news to him, but he had come to her because he didn't know what to do about it. Victarion had never been a leader – he could captain a ship and even a fleet better than anyone else, he could lead his men into battle, but he wasn't a king. He had never cared for the larger picture. That had always been Balon's task, and with him gone, Victarion had turned to the closest thing to his brother and king he had left.

Asha stepped closer, although she felt as nervous as if she was backing an uneasy stallion into a corner. His eyes strayed down from her face, and Asha remembered that she was only wearing a thin shirt and loose breeches. 

“We can only beat him together.” It was the same thing she had told him earlier that day, but this time he actually seemed to listen. He tore his gaze away from her chest and met her eyes again.

“We're Ironborn, Asha. Our kings don't have a Hand, like those greenlander lordlings who are too weak to rule for themselves.”

“I don't need a title, nuncle.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don't even need you to acknowledge that you share your rule with a woman, if you're worried about men laughing at you. I simply need to know that you will listen to me, that I will be your first and foremost counsellor. It would make your rule easier, nuncle, not harder. I'll be your first mate, if you will.”

Victarion's jaw was clenched, the look on his face still conflicted. But he hadn't refused her yet, and Asha knew that she wouldn't get another chance after this. She shuddered to think what would happen to both of them should Euron win the Seastone Chair. She raised her hand to Victarion's face, slowly so as not to startle him, until her fingertips just brushed against his chin. 

“Or if you prefer to see it another way … I'll be your queen, not in name, but in everything else. That way we both get just about everything we want.” 

When he realised what she meant he flinched back from her touch. He seemed to be trying very hard to look disgusted, but he didn't quite manage.

“What makes you think I want that?”

“I saw how you looked at me earlier today,” Asha said with a smirk. Her hand reached for his, and he didn't resist when she raised it to her breast. His fingers were rigid, as if he was forcing himself not to move them, but he kept his hand where she put it. “I can see how you're looking at me now.”

“And what's in that for you, little niece?” he growled. Asha bit back a chuckle, not wanting him to think that she was mocking him.

“Do you really think I haven't wanted this for longer than you, nuncle?” She licked her lips and leant in closer, until her lips brushed against his jaw. “Remember that feast last year? When I sat by your side and I just kept coming closer, until I all but sat on your lap by the end of the night? I admit that I was incredibly drunk or I wouldn't have been so careless, but that doesn't mean I want you any less.” Victarion's fingers tightened on her breast, the movement so sudden that it felt almost involuntary. Asha smiled against his neck. “All I really wanted was for you to drag me into the next dark corner and have me right there.”

She tensed up in surprise when Victarion suddenly grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the hull of the ship, his fingers curled tightly around her throat, but he wasn't choking her. For a moment she worried if she had misjudged him completely, but the look in his eyes was one of lust, not anger. He had kept his other hand on her breast and squeezed, then gave her a mocking half-smile.

“You aren't much of a woman, Asha,” he said. 

“I'm enough of a man to help you rule, nuncle.” She could hear how breathless she sounded, but even Victarion's tight grip on her throat didn't scare her. She had never expected him to be gentle. “And believe me, I'm enough of a woman to handle you.”

Victarion pressed against her with a low growl, but whatever angry reply he had been thinking of was swallowed when Asha tilted her head up to kiss him, as rough and hard as she could. She curled her fingers into his hair, yanked his head back to break the kiss after only a few seconds.

“So what's it going to be, nuncle?” She twisted a little in his arms, just enough to make him imagine what she would feel like writhing underneath him. “You'll either have me by your side, or you'll spend the rest of your life kneeling for the Crow's Eye.” Asha leant in again, but only to give Victarion's bottom lip a sharp bite. “He raped your wife. He humiliated you, and now he's come back to mock you. And you'd rather bend your knee to him than accept my help?”

She could see in his eyes that his resolve was crumbling, but his thumb was still pressing painfully into her throat. Asha shivered, although she wasn't sure if it was his touch that excited her or the prospect of getting what she needed. She bit her tongue to stay silent, careful not to push him too far.

“Fine,” Victarion finally ground out. “But you _will_ show me the proper respect, woman. I will listen to your counsel in private, but I will not have you question me in public. I'm not getting rid of him so you can humiliate me instead.”

Asha let out a soft breath of relief. It was less than she had asked for the first time, but it was better than nothing. And most importantly, the fact that he had shown up here at all was all the proof she needed that Victarion was quite capable of listening to her. That he even _wanted_ someone he could listen to. It would have to do, at least for the moment, if the alternative was watching Euron steal what was hers.

“Don't worry, nuncle.” She trailed her fingers down to his neck, mimicking his grip on her throat, although far more gentle. “I'll play the obedient niece as far as everyone else is concerned, but you had better never forget that your crown will belong to me as much as to you.”

She held his gaze, searching for any sign of deception, but Victarion looked far too frustrated to be lying. So she smiled when he finally nodded. His hand let go of her throat, only to slip under the thin fabric of her shirt, grasping her shoulder. She could feel his impatience in the way his calloused fingertips dug into her skin. As much as Asha enjoyed teasing men, she decided that she had provoked him enough for one night. If everything went well in the morning, she would soon get more than enough occasion to get anything from him she had ever wanted.

“Come here then, nuncle,” she whispered against his lips, the last word ending in a moan when he pushed his leg between her thighs.

“Don't call me that. Not now.” Asha laughed, wondering if he even knew how predictable he was, but it would only make her life easier. She shook her head, let her fingers trail further down to start unbuckling his armour.

“I'll call you king when I've made you king.”

* * * * *

Asha screamed Victarion's name louder than anyone else at the Kingsmoot, but she fell silent once it became clear that their joined efforts had been more than enough. She watched quietly while her men kept yelling and cheering, watched the quiet rage on Euron's usually unreadable face and wondered what new plans he was hatching behind that eye patch, watched the satisfaction in Aeron's eyes as he droned on about how the Drowned God had made sure that only a god-fearing man would sit the Seastone Chair, watched Victarion's gruff smile as the other lords and captains paid their respects.

She waited until Victarion met her eyes over the crowd. He waved her over, but she shook her head. This was his moment, not hers, but she had no doubt that he intended to honour their agreement. Victarion was not a man to break his word. He would not forget whose voice had won him his crown.


End file.
